


Tuesday's Child

by andtheyfightcrime



Series: 7(00) days of Summer [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Buffy's lost summer, Gen, and we've hit canon, interludes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andtheyfightcrime/pseuds/andtheyfightcrime
Summary: The second story in a series I like to call, "No one's reading this so I can write whatever I want," but no, seriously, it's part of a collective 'verse I'm naming 7(00) days of Summer.Because I can.Buffy turns 16, then 17, and then the long slide into traumatic birthdays begins! Also the beginning of Anne!Buffy.





	Tuesday's Child

**January 19, 1997**

“Tell me again, what does closing scarecrow mean?” Buffy leaned against the counter and stole a spoon full of cookie dough while her mother wasn’t looking. Joyce chuckled. “Closing escrow, Buffy. It means the seller agreed to the offer I made for the house. I thought we were going to have to live in an apartment while I got the gallery off the ground, but real estate in Sunnydale is a bargain compared to Los Angeles.”

She scooped out a portion of dough and placed it on the baking sheet. “And don’t sneak cookie dough. These are for your birthday.”

“Mom,” Buffy wheedled. “I need to taste test. You know, quality control.”

Joyce flicked a dishcloth at her. “Scoot. You can quality control the dirty dishes.”

“Fine.” Buffy walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. “So when are we moving?”

“I’m helping your father pack up this house and then we have to list it. He’s also finalizing his new place.”

“Yeah, he told me there was a swimming pool.”

“That’ll be fun for when you can’t get to the beach.”

“I guess. So we’re not moving right away?” Buffy scrubbed a mixing bowl half-heartedly.

“We still need to finish the remainder of your classes. Which reminds me, did you finish your homework? Your tutor told me she assigned a book report.”

“Uh, I haven’t finished the book yet.”

“Buffy.”

“And I will get right on it. Right after I finish these dishes.”

Joyce looked at her pointedly. “I’d like to read your book report when you’re finished.”

“Yes, Mom,” Buffy said meekly.

 

Her father called to wish her a happy birthday after dinner. “You’re going to love it here. The mall is only twenty minutes away and the bus runs by so you don’t have to drive.”

“That’s nice. When are you moving in?”

“I should be ready to go in February. Your mother told me she’s getting the keys to the Sunnydale house soon. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“You know you’re always welcome to stay with me whenever you want,” Hank said.

“I know,” Buffy whispered. “I gotta go. Mom wants me to cut the cake.”

“Bye, honey.”

 

**August 26, 1997**

She swung her legs restlessly in the pool and watched the ripples spread outward. Her father had offered to drive her to the beach on his day off, but she preferred to stay inside. It felt overwhelming to be around too many people lately and it was nice to be able to retreat into her father’s condo. She smirked a little – it was kind of ridiculous how her father had quickly slipped into bachelor mode. Everything in his condo was either chrome or black leather and there was a giant TV in the living room. At least there was a framed picture of her on his nightstand.

Otherwise, it was a comfortable routine – she greeted her father every morning before he left for work, took the bus to the mall, walked the boardwalk along the beach, and grabbed a bite to eat at one of the beachside cafes. Sunnydale seemed as remote as the moon.

It was only at night when she had trouble. She had patrolled only once – when she thought she saw a vampire, but it was only an Industrial Goth coming from a nighttime rave. That had been embarrassing.

She called her mother once, but Joyce had gone to bed and Buffy felt strange leaving a message for her on the machine. She hung up and wrote a postcard to Willow instead.

She debated calling Giles, but reasoned he was probably busy with library stuff – did librarians even go on vacation? He had wished her a happy summer with a pat on the back and told her to enjoy herself.

Sunnydale was fine without her.

So why was it so hard to sleep at night?

Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was the Master’s jagged grin.

It was worse when she dreamed about drowning.

Darkness flowed all around her, slipping into her mouth, her nose and she would wake up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her chest.

Those were the nights she thought about slipping out of her room, out of the condo and into the familiarity of the evening – because then she could fight something.

Then she would draw up her knees to her chest and count to ten. It was summer, her favorite time of year. Her dad used to make a joke about it every year – “Summers flourish in summer!” And she’d roll her eyes and her mother would smile wryly and _it would be all right_.

Instead, she counted the bumps on the guest room’s ceiling and if her father noticed her quietness, he said nothing.

He bought her shoes, though. Platform sandals, cute boots, a sassy heel or two.

She’d look at them, all lined up next to the closet, hold them in her hand. She traced the stitching on the shiny vinyl straps and thought, Dad, I died a few months ago. No big deal, it was like only for a minute or two. My friend saved me. That’s why I’ve been so weird lately. Hey, great talk. Thanks for the shoes.

 

Sometimes she’d allow herself to think about Angel.

Angel.

There might as well have been a big question mark beside his name. She wasn’t sure what was going on between them if there was something. Something besides mutual defenders against the dark tides of evil, etc, etc.

He had been so –what was the word Willow said? Solicitous. He hadn’t danced with her at the Spring Fling but he did have a coffee waiting for her when she was done whirling around with Willow and Xander. Then he walked her home, their shoulders nearly touching. Buffy’s hand itched to grab his but she had been struck with a sudden case of shyness. Angel escorted her to the door – like a date! – and waited while she let herself in.

There had been a pause, and then he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Good night, Buffy.”

She liked the way he said her name. It felt like – like the steam coming off a fresh cup of coffee, warming her cheeks and then her insides – and anyway, there was something there. She just wasn’t sure what to call it.

Angel was out there and she wondered if he missed her.

 

 

**January 22, 1998**

Buffy went to bed early and Joyce looked in on her after turning off the downstairs lights. Buffy was curled up in her blankets, her back to the door. Joyce closed the door quietly and went to her own room.

She pulled out a birthday card from her bedside drawer and signed it, “Love, Dad,” and slipped in a few bills, then sealed it in an envelope.

 

 

 

**January 23, 1998**

Buffy found the envelope beside her plate when she went down for breakfast. “What’s this?”

“It’s from your father. What do you want in your omelet?”

“Cheese, please,” Buffy said, her tired expression brightening for a moment. “Did I miss his call?”

“I’m sure he’ll call soon,” Joyce said and turned her attention to the omelet. “What do you want in your lunch?”

“I’ll make it,” Buffy said. “I make a mean PB & J.”

“You know, we should do some cooking on the weekends. I’ve got Nana Summers’ cookbook and my mother’s recipe index,” Joyce mused. “A growing girl can’t live on peanut butter alone.”

“Sure,” Buffy said. “I’m down for some mom bonding time.”

“I’m glad. I know you don’t think I understand how hard your life is right now, but honey, I survived high school too. And you’re so busy all the time – I miss you.”

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah. I miss you too, mom.”

“So it’s a date? This weekend?”

“I’m on spatula duty.” Buffy saluted her.

 

 

**May 19, 1998**

Buffy walked out of the bus depot, her head still in a fog. Angel’s last words to her echoed in her mind, along with her mother’s. _I love you…you walk out of this house, don’t even think about coming back…I love you._

She closed her eyes painfully and blinked back tears. It didn’t matter anymore. She was on her own.

 

She walked for a long time until she found herself in a nondescript diner on the edges of LA. Not exactly in the bad side of town, but far from the tourist crowd. She walked in and dropped her duffle bag in a booth.

The waitress stopped by with a menu, her long black braid coiled up in a crown around her head. “Hi. Welcome to Bob’s. I’m Marίa. What can I get you?”

Buffy looked blankly at the shiny laminated menu in front of her. “Can I get back to you?”

“Of course. Take your time.” Marίa put her pad in apron pocket and walked away.

The words on the menu blurred together in her vision and she blinked furiously. Overwhelmed, she laid her head on the table and tried to breathe.

“Hey, are you okay? Can I get you some water?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Buffy croaked. “I’ve just had a really long day.”

Marίa smiled. “I’ve had a couple of those. I’ll bring you some water and a coke, on the house, okay?”

Buffy nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

 

 

Buffy looked around – the restaurant was half full and nobody seemed to be chatting, most of the diners concentrating on their food or the small television mounted on the wall. There was a battered “Help Wanted” sign in the window and a faded food grade sign next to it.

Marίa came back with a pitcher of ice water and two glasses, one empty and one filled with coke. She slid two paper-wrapped straws next to them. “Some sugar and some water might help with a headache,” she said. “It works for me anyway. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Wait. Are you guys still hiring?” Buffy motioned at the sign.

“You want to work _here_?” Marίa raised a perfectly arched brow.

“I was just curious,” Buffy mumbled. She flipped the menu over. “I’ll have the club sandwich and soup.”

“Do you have the money to pay for it?”

“What? God, yes. I’m not going to dine and dash.” Buffy pushed the menu away from her.

“We don’t get a lot of girls that look like you that want to work here, is all. I’ll bring your food and if you can wait a bit, I can talk to you after my shift’s over. About the job.”

“Thank you. So much.” Buffy relaxed and gave her a tiny smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I messed up the timeline multiple times while plotting this story, and double checking the air dates of the episodes so the interludes would match, and I'm still not 100% they sync up, so I'm calling creative license on it. I also don't math good as the people of Mutant Enemy would say. Recognizable dialogue is straight from the episode, namely "Becoming, Part II (dunh dunh dun)."


End file.
